Lady Trevarren and the Emerald Brooch: A Regency Romance and Murder Mystery

by Miriam Rochester

  ‘Yes,’ affirmed the Colonel, but he was not talking about the moorhens, he was looking at Sophie. She was a wonderful sight in her daisy print dress of mid blue muslin and the animation in her face triggered his senses. Desire shot through him like hot coals. The woman was lovely and instinctively he slipped his hand around her shoulders and drew her to him.

  Sophie looked up at him and as she did so, he cradled her head in his right hand and lowered his lips to hers. Every fibre in his body was crying to devour this woman and as he savoured her warm, soft lips he almost lost control. She felt soft and warm and he could feel the soft contour of her breasts and she leant into him. She responded readily and smoothed her hands up the granite planes of his broad back plunging them into his thick dark silky hair. He could feel the savage beating of her heart as its tempo raced to match his own. Sophie had never been kissed like this before, not even their first kiss could match this one. Her legs turned to jelly as she trembled in his arms but his strong arms were ever there to support her.

  They were both lost in oblivion until a sound brought them back to their senses. Voices raised in anger could be heard coming along the path. Colonel Northcote broke the kiss and raised his head as Sophie brought her hands up to the defined planes of his muscular chest and held them there. She gasped in dismay. Surely they were not coming this way? Harry brought a finger up to his lips to indicate silence and she sat rigid waiting for the inevitable, but the voices stopped ten yards short of the bench.

  Colonel Northcote leant his head forward to listen. He was sure that one of the voices belonged to his brother. He did not know who the other person was, but he was no friend.

  The strange voice was raised anger. ‘Winstanley, you are nothing but a common thief. That man you recommended to value my Gainsborough was nothing but a con artist. You tricked me, sir, and I demand that you return the painting to me.’

  The Earl just laughed. ‘More fool you, Mr Ranleigh. You always were a dupe. You made a deal. No, I am not inclined to give you your painting back.’

  ‘So you admit it then. Your actions and deceit were deliberate. I give you fair warning that I will be taking this matter to the magistrate,’ bellowed the man in sheer frustration.

  His brother’s reply was cool and succinct. ‘You forget. I am the magistrate. I admit it, but I cover my tracks well and it would be impossible for you to prove anything.’

  Mr Ranleigh stuttered in disbelief. ‘A crooked magistrate is all this community needs! Then…Then I demand satisfaction. Name your friends, sir.’

  The Earl’s voice assumed a cold ominous tone. ‘I do not accept challenges from inferiors. Get yourself gone, you fool before I have you locked up in Bedlam.’

  ‘Why you, you…you are nothing but a coward,’ the man spluttered in defiance. ‘I shall take it to the magistrate in Newcastle.’

  The Colonel and Sophie heard no more as the voice was interrupted by a loud splash as someone hit the water.

  Colonel Northcote indicated to Sophie to stay hidden where she was while he stood up to investigate. He expected to see his brother wallowing in the lake but to his surprise, it was Mr Ranleigh. Mr Ranleigh was now standing in water up to his hips, dripping wet and covered in duckweed and his brother had stalked off in a temper.

  Harry walked across ‘Do you need any assistance, sir,’ he asked as he reached down to take his hand to help him to the bank.

  Mr Ranleigh glanced up disparagingly and refused it. ‘Another Northcote!’ he growled. ‘No thank you, my Lord, I want nothing else to do with your sort!’

  Harry sighed. ‘I am not my brother, Mr Ranleigh and I would like to help you, but I cannot do so if I do not know what is afoot.’

  Mr Ranleigh regarded him with distrust. ‘Do not pretend that you do not know, but if you would like me to spell it out for you, I will.’

  ‘Please do,’ responded Harry patiently.

  Mr Ranleigh regarded him with some suspicion, now not quite sure what to think. The Colonel appeared genuine but there again, he was a Northcote and not to be trusted. However, he did not think that there was any harm in telling him.

  ‘Very well,’ he responded. ‘Your brother suspected that a Gainsborough I owned was a fake. He advised that I got in checked and recommended an art expert. The expert told me it was a fake and your brother offered to offset my losses by taking it off my hands at a seriously reduced price. I complained to the dealer who sold it to me but it turns out that it was genuine after all. The whole deal was a total scam and the art expert has disappeared. No doubt that damn imposter was paid well. The whole elaborate hoax was planned so your crook of a brother could get his hands on my Gainsborough. I give you fair warning, Winstanley will be made to pay!’

  Mr Ranleigh was far too angry and the Colonel knew it was useless to argue with him. He knew which painting he was talking about. Rupert had recently acquired a Gainsborough which was hanging proudly on the first-floor landing. Harry could also have no more doubts. His brother was a schemer of the worst kind and he had heard it first hand from Rupert’s own mouth. What had Rupert come to while Harry had been away?

  He spoke softly. ‘No, Mr Ranleigh. I did not know. How much was that painting worth and I will reimburse you?’

  Mr Ranleigh looked in disbelief. Had he heard him correctly?

  ‘Fifty pounds, Colonel Northcote. I would prefer the painting but failing that it’s correct worth will be better than nothing.’

  ‘Leave me a forwarding address and you shall have one or the other returned to you within the next few days. You have my word on it,’ replied Harry wearily.

  Arrangements having been made, Mr Ranleigh left and Harry returned to Sophie who was still hiding on the bench and had heard it all. He sat down beside her and put his head in his hands, as if in a moment of weakness, this last revelation was just too much. Sophie reached out to him and put a hand on his arm. ‘I am sorry, Harry, truly I am. Can you afford to pay him back? You can keep my brooch and sell it if it would help. Just give me the contents out of the secret compartment in the back.’

  Harry raised his head. He knew how much that brooch meant to Sophie and was touched. ‘Thank you, Sophie, but I can afford it. That is not really the problem. How many people has my brother cheated and swindled? Good Lord, your father, Sophie. I am so sorry.’

  Sophie raised her hand to his face and gently smoothed the scar on his temple. ‘You cannot change the past Harry but you can do your best to ensure the future. You must be strong. Do not falter now.’

  The sincere look on her earnest face gave him renewed strength. She had faith in him. For goodness sake, he was a soldier and had faced worse than this. He must pull himself together. He took Sophie’s face in his large hands and feathered kisses on her nose and cheeks. ‘You are right, Sophie. You are good for my soul. My brother is a fraudster but he is still my brother and I must make him see the error of his ways before it is too late. When the war was over I thought I could come home to peace and stability but alas it still eludes me. I must wait a little longer.’

  Harry reflected. He was not the Earl and he had no desire to interfere in his brother’s affairs but he could not ignore the things he had seen and heard. He may just be a younger son but the family name was important to him and he saw it his duty to protect that name.

  Harry, having rekindled some of his resolve, stood up and smiled. ‘I have never failed in a mission yet so I am sure I shall muddle through.’ He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Come along, I think we should return to the others before your Aunt realises that you are gone. I also need to seek out Mr Featherstone and the others and get their version of events during that fateful card game.’

  Chapter Nine

  Sophie left the garden party at eight o’clock as had the last of the families with young children. The Colonel missed her presence but he had other things to occupy his mind. Having once again discovered the whereabouts of Viscount Ashenden and on finding Mr Featherstone he spoke with them, bu
t each of them had remained guarded and gave him what was obviously a well-rehearsed account.

  Lord Dereham was a little more forthcoming. His account was similar but at least he gave Lord Trevarren the respect due to him. Lord Trevarren had neither been wild nor in his cups. In fact, he had what anyone would have considered a winning hand and Lord Dereham could not understand how he had lost. What had been a terrible gamble should not have been a gamble at all. But there was no denying it, Winstanley had produced a most unexpected ace and no-one had seen him cheating.

  After speaking to Lord Dereham, the Colonel solicited a dance from Miss Fairbanks, the young lady who had sought him out to entreat him on behalf of her father. She told him that her father had not yet heard anything from the Earl and Harry assured her that no doubt she soon would. Harry was now aware that his brother was a charlatan but he kept up the pretence that it had all been a terrible mistake and the matter would be rectified. Mr Fairbanks was at the garden party but she begged him not to approach him and speak of her visit, or she would be in terrible trouble. She just wanted the resolution to be a surprise for him without him knowing of her involvement.

  Colonel Northcote also collided with Mr Pendlesham the gentleman who he had evicted from Winstanley Hall, but like Mr Ranleigh, Mr Pendlesham was far too angry to listen to anything Colonel Northcote had to say. Harry sighed, there were too many people milling about to risk a full blown argument so he decided that it would be better to delay that conversation until another time. He made a resolve to visit Mr Pendlesham at a later date when the matter could be discussed in private.

  Colonel Northcote, accompanied by lord and lady Northcote, left the Dereham’s garden party at ten o’clock. As he had arrived independently on Julius, he decided to ride alongside the Winstanley Coach. It would take an hour to reach home and in that journey, it would give him time to think of how to approach Rupert.

  He had promised Sophie that he would get to the bottom of the matter, but in reality, it would difficult, almost impossible to get to the truth. And what if he could prove that her father had been cheated out of all his worldly goods? The exoneration of Lord Trevarren could only lead to the exposure of his brother as an unprincipled cheat. It was not a solution that appealed to him. At least Mr Redesdale and Lord Dereham had cleared Lord Trevarren of being an irresponsible drunk. Harry was also beginning to think that Lord Dereham had no hand to play in this bad business.

  One thing was certain, Harry needed to confront Rupert and persuade him to mend his ways. Perhaps the situation could be saved and where there was criminal intent, reparations made. As far as Sophie was concerned, the Colonel had every intention of marrying her. He would ensure that Sophie was well provided for and he would also do what he could for her young brother.

  After the altercation he had witnessed at the lake this very evening, he did not think that the interview with his brother could wait. He would ask Rupert to accompany him for a night cap as soon as they reached home and he would confront him then.

  As Rupert collected the Winstanley coach, Colonel Northcote collected Julius from the groom that he had spoken to earlier in the day. The groom had news for him.

  ‘I have discovered the owner of that fine colt, my Lord. It belongs to that young shaver, Lord Trevarren. He came to collect it at 8 o’clock.’

  The Colonel thanked him. He did not wish to dampen the groom’s enthusiasm by telling him that he already knew, besides he now had other things on his mind. Tossing the groom extra coin, he mounted Julius and he set out with his family for home.

  They had not been on the road ten minutes when the peace of the evening was shattered by a loud bang and he felt the rush of a bullet whistling past his ear. It missed Jeffrey, the Winstanley coachman, by a whisker and embedded itself in a large oak tree.

  Harry had been a soldier too long, not to recognise it for what it was and his reactions were instant. Quickly dismounting, he dropped to the ground and commanded Rupert and Cecelia to crouch down on the carriage floor. Jeffrey wasted no time seeking shelter under the body of the carriage and Harry took cover in the bushes from where he scanned the landscape. The shot had come from behind him but now all was silent. Gingerly reaching forward, he took his pistol from his saddlebag and skirted around the rear of the bushes heading for the direction of the gunshot. If he remembered clearly, they had passed a small clearing a little way back, a perfect spot from which to launch an ambush. Jeffrey having recovered his wits crawled around on his hands and knees and crouched down beside him. He was brandishing a blunderbuss and gave the Colonel a reassuring nod. ‘I am right behind you, my Lord. I have your back.’

  Harry nodded in silent acknowledgement and the pair progressed slowly until they came to the clearing. It was empty but there had been signs of activity and broken twigs had been crushed underfoot. A shimmering gleam on the ground caught his eye and he bent down to pick up the object that had caught his attention. It was a square Stuart crystal cufflink with a ruby inlay, embossed with gold leaf and obviously belonged to someone of means. Probably someone who had attended the garden fete.

  Harry, still vigilant, looked up. He could hear the sound of retreating hooves in the distance. Whoever had taken a pot shot at them had made his escape and he doubted he would catch up with him now. The perpetrator would probably return to the garden party and lose himself amongst the remaining guests who had chosen to stay for the fireworks at midnight. Harry pocketed the cufflink and returned to Julius who was nibbling the long grass in the verge. He considered. Was it worth returning to the garden party to look for a person wearing one cufflink? Harry decided against it. The person would surely have discovered his loss by now and remedied the matter and besides, he felt it his duty to see his brother safely home.

  Harry and Jeffrey returned to the coach where Rupert was calming a distraught Cecelia. She was still trembling with shock and Rupert looked somewhat pale himself. Harry was quite calm, his experiences in the Peninsular inured him somewhat to the sound of gunshots. Never-the-less, it was not something to be expected in time of peace and he was disturbed. No one could have suspected his unease, however and his reassuring presence had a calming effect on Cecelia.

  ‘Did you catch him, Harry? Oh, who could have wanted to take a shot at us?’ she uttered in bewilderment.

  Rupert was wondering the same thing but unlike Cecelia, he knew it could be any one of a number of people. He just soothed his wife. ‘Probably a highwayman but do not worry, Cecelia dear, he obviously thought better of it and fled.’

  Harry did not for one minute think that it was a highwayman but for Cecelia’s sake he agreed with his brother’s assessment. The fact was, it could have been anybody. Either Rupert had upset one person too many or Harry had ruffled someone’s feathers tonight with his questions. Whatever the cause, he would confront his brother tonight as soon as they reached Winstanley Hall.

  The Northcote’s arrived at Winstanley Hall in a sombre mood and Lady Northcote retired to her bedchamber with the attendance of her maid. Harry indicated to his brother that he wished to speak with him in the study and it was nearly midnight when the two sat ensconced over a bottle of brandy.

  Rupert gulped down his brandy and poured himself another. ‘What is so important that it cannot wait until the morning,’ he asked in irritation. He suspected that Harry was about to confront him. At the garden fete, both Viscount Ashenden and Mr Featherstone had told him that Harry had been asking a lot of intrusive questions about the card game. They had not been too pleased and told Winstanley in no uncertain terms to do something about it and that they would hold him responsible if their perfidy came to light.

  Rupert sat quietly as Harry started to list the long catalogue of complaints that had come to his attention, not least of all his altercation that very evening with Mr Ranleigh over the Gainsborough painting. Harry sighed wearily. ‘Rupert, I can no longer ignore the fact that you are involved in a number of nefarious activities. I suspect that I have just uncovered the tip
of an iceberg. What is going on, brother?’

  Rupert just stared at Harry over the rim on his brandy glass. ‘I knew I should never have invited you here when you returned from Portugal. You and Stephen always did put your nose into things that did not concern you when you were stubby nosed brats. How do you think that I maintain this place and keep the estates in order? Have you any idea of the responsibilities I face while you are away playing soldier,’ he spluttered angrily.

  Harry absently put his hand to his temple in annoyance, and Rupert’s attitude, in the light of the fact that Stephen had been lost, rankled him. Realising that Rupert could not even begin to understand his experiences in battle, decided to ignore the insult. It was just beginning to dawn on Harry that Rupert had not kept the great estate in order. When riding over the land, he had noticed roofs that needed fixing and fields that need cultivating, and with the exception of Winstanley Hall, which was the embodiment of luxury, the estates were in very bad repair indeed.

  ‘There was plenty of money when our father was alive,’ he said calmly. ‘How come that you feel the need to resort to deceit and corruption to keep your head above water now?’

  Rupert, realising that he could no longer pull the wool over his brother’s perceptive eyes, sighed wearily. ‘I made some bad investments two years ago. I started cheating at cards and found that I was exceptionally good at it. It was my share in the Trevarren fortune that put me to rights again.’

  ‘And in doing so, Lord Trevarren went into terminal decline. How could you stand by and watch that happen?’ Harry asked in dismay.

  Rupert sighed despondently. He had not truly thought of the consequences and had regretted the demise of Lord Trevarren but he was in too deep. ‘I had no choice. I was threatened with exposure. You see, I was not the only one involved in the deception.’

  ‘I am aware of that,’ replied Harry acerbically, ‘but it is not the only dishonest scheme you have engaged in. How many others, Rupert?’